His blood touched my lips, warm and lush. It reached the back of my throat, but I couldn’t taste it, couldn’t swallow it. There was so much stuff in there already. Panic spread.

“Cas—”

“What?” he thundered.

“Listen to me. Please, Cas. Listen to me. It didn’t get her heart.” Kieran leaned in, clasping the back of Casteel’s neck. “Look at the blood. It got an artery and at least a lung. You know that—”

A flash of intense light exploded over the ruins, momentarily blinding me, followed by a loud boom. Stone cracked. Someone shouted. I heard a scream. The stone floor shuddered as whatever the lightning had struck fell.

“No. No. No. Open your eyes,” Casteel begged. They had closed? “Come on. Don’t do this. Don’t do this to me. Please. Open your eyes. Please, Poppy. Drink.” He curled over me, pressing his wrist against my mouth. “Please. Poppy, drink.”

Casteel’s features pieced themselves back together, but they were hazy as if the lines and angles had been smudged. I blinked rapidly, trying to clear my vision.

“There you are,” he said, his chest rising and falling too fast. “Stay with me. Okay? Keep your eyes open. Stay with me.”

I wanted to. Gods, I wanted to more than anything, but I was tired. Sleepy. I whispered that. At least, I thought I did. I wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter. I concentrated on his face, on the lock of dark hair, the winged, expressive brows. I soaked in the thick fringe of lashes and the high, angular cheekbones. I studied every inch of his striking features, from the hard curve of his jaw to his full, well-formed mouth, committing them to memory. Because I knew…I knew when my eyes closed again, they wouldn’t reopen. I wanted to remember his face when the world turned dark. I wanted to remember what it felt like to be in his arms, to hear his voice and feel his mouth against mine. I wanted to remember the way he smiled when I threatened him, and how his eyes lit up and warmed whenever I challenged him. I wanted to remember the pride I felt from him whenever I silenced those around me with words or by blade. I wanted to remember how he touched my scars reverently as if he wasn’t worthy of them—of me.

Another bolt of lightning streaked overhead, striking the ground and charging the air. Chunks of stone flew into the sky. Casteel’s father shouted, and I heard a chorus of howls coming from all around. But I focused on Casteel. His eyes were glossy, and his lashes were wet.

He was crying.

Casteel was crying.

Tears streaked his cheeks, creating glistening tracks in the dried blood as they rolled and rolled…and I knew…I knew I was dying. Casteel knew it, too. He had to. There was so much I wanted to say, so much I wanted to do with him and change. His brother’s future. Ian’s. That of the people of Atlantia and Solis. Our future. Did I ever thank him for seeing past the veil? Or for never once forcing me to stand down? Did I tell him how much he’d changed my life, how much that meant to me, even when I thought I hated him—even when I wanted to hate him? I think I did, but it didn’t feel like it was enough. And there was more. I wanted one more kiss. One more smile. I wanted to see his stupid dimples again, and I wanted to kiss them. I wanted to prove to him that he was worthy of me, of love and life, no matter what had happened in his past or what he’d done. But, oh gods, there wasn’t enough time.